A Bad Case of Spattergroit
by BlackOpal
Summary: What if Ron actually decides to try the cure for Spattergroits... what if Hermione sees him trying this cure....


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Disclaimer: Nothings mine 'cept the story and plot. Everything else is JK's.

A/N: Thanks to Nita and Snazz for helping me get Hermione right… er… sort of.

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They walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, the various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.

"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.

"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now-"

"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" said Ron, his ears turning red.

"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eel's eyes-"

"I have not got spattergroit!"

"But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master-"

"They're freckles!" said Ron furiously. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone."

*************

Driving home from St. Mungo's, Ron sat quite silently between Harry and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting in front of Harry's seat, kept eyeing Ron in the review mirror. Everyone was quite concerned about him actually. Harry was trying to subtly watch him from the corner of his eye and Ginny was pretending to look past Harry and out the window on Hermione's side, shifting her gaze whenever she thought Ron wasn't looking. Only Hermione was brave enough to meet Ron's eye and she, somehow able to decipher what was bothering him, made a clucking noise under her breath.

"Honestly Ron, are you going to let that spoil your Christmas?" she said, glaring at him.

Everyone, now that Hermione had brought up the problem, looked at Ron as if they just realized there was something wrong with him.

"You actually believe that stupid git?" Harry asked him.

Ron continued to stare out the front windshield. "No…" he said through gritted teeth.

"What's wrong with Ron?" Lupin asked from the seat next to Mrs. Weasley.

"Some Healer told him he had this wretched disease Spattergroit and now he thinks he's got it." Ginny offered Lupin.

From besides Lupin came two identical laughs. Ron cringed and Ginny's made an effort to hide her face so he wouldn't see her burst out laughing.

"Stay away Ron, we don't want Spattergroit!" George said as he held up his hands to shield himself from his brother.

"Ron's dying!" Fred said as he gasped for breath. "Hey Mum, after he croaks can we have his room?"

Lupin made an effort to hide his mouth from Ron's view and Harry was quite sure he heard a muffled laugh from his direction.

"That's enough from you two." Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "Ron, those Healers probably wouldn't know a disease if it checked into the hospital. You don't have Spattergroit- Merlin's Beard, what a name- otherwise, you'd be in that hospital next to your father."

And that was the end of the conversation, mostly because they had pulled up in front of number twelve Grimmauld Place. 

"Everybody out!" Mundungus, who had been quiet the entire ride back (most likely in an effort not to cause Mrs. Weasley anymore distaste for himself) called.

As he climbed out of the car, he accidentally brushed against Fred, who promptly fell to the ground and started moaning and trashing on the grass saying, "George! George! I've got it! I've got the Spattergroit." George ran to his twin's side and erupted in a very dramatic scene in which he wished Fred luck in the afterlife.

"That's enough!" Mrs. Wealsey shouted, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

Ron, turning a shade of bright purple, _accidentally on purpose_ stepped on Fred while trying to get over the two. He refused to talk to anyone as he made his way into his house and up to his room and refused to come out, even for dinner, which is unusual Ron behavior.

He pretended to be asleep when Harry came in, snoring rather loudly as Harry changed into his pajamas and even made sure to moan in his "sleep" as Harry climbed into bed. In truth, he wasn't asleep. Only stalked by images of his face being mutated into something horrid because his Spattergroit case went untreated.

He was pretty sure that they were freckles.Everyone else in his family had them. His mother and father had passed down the trait. It was sort of like a family heirloom. You weren't a Weasley unless you had your standard Weasley red hair and Weasley freckles.

The stupid healer didn't know what he was talking about. Obviously they didn't have the Weasley freckles back then. Or maybe he was just bored. That was it! It can't be very fun sitting in the 

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But why didn't the Healer pick out Ginny too, then? If she has freckles…. The voice inside his head was right. Why _didn't_ he tell Ginny she had that thing- what was it called? Spattergroit. 

Maybe it was different. Maybe Ron was the only one in his family to have it. Ron gasped. Maybe he was adopted and his birth parents had a case of Spattergroit and gave it to him!

Ron peered into the mirror next to his bed, careful to make sure that Harry was asleep. They looked like freckles, no different from his brother's or Ginny's. But just to be on the safe side, he decided he would try the remedy. 

He snuck down to the kitchen, hoping that Kreacher wasn't there. In truth, he didn't know if they had eel's eyeballs or a toad's liver. He could improvise if necessary. 

In the end he had to and with his arm's full of jellybeans and a flank steak, he made his way outside. He found a barrel behind a rundown shed and after shooing several rats out of it, he poured the jellybeans into it. There was only enough to cover the bottom of the barrel. Shrugging, he peeled off his clothes.

Usually, he would be apprehensive about shedding his garments in the dead of the night outside, it put him in a very awkward situation if someone just happened to have decided to get a glass of water. The sink was right in front of a window where they could see Ron if they happened to look out of it. But… desperate times call for desperate measures.

He stepped into the jellybeans, wincing slightly as they cut into his feet. Now came the flank steak. He tried not to imagine what his mother would say when she opened the door the next morning to ready the steak for supper and not find it.

Ron stood there, quite freezing underneath the pale half moon, which would have to do considering that Ron couldn't exactly ask Mother Nature to give him a full moon. It had it's own schedule to follow.

He had been out there for at least fifteen minutes, every aspect of his body aware of the cold and wondering when he could stop (he hadn't let the Healer finish) when he caught sight of burly brown hair.

"_Hermione?"_ He asked, stunned. It wasn't her… probably some dog or something.

"Ron, what in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" It was her all right. 

"I was er… taking a walk?" He volunteered.

"And you just happened to walk into a barrel with a steak around your neck and _jellybeans_," her voice had disbelief in it, "on the bottom of it?" If Ron didn't know any better, he would say she was mad.

"Well…I… I…"

"Get out." she hissed. "Get out of that retched thing, your lips are blue and your body is like a ghost."

"Hermione…"

"I said GET OUT!" She was shouting now, in a desperate way.

"I CAN'T!" He shouted back. "I don't have on any clothes."

"Oh." She blushed. "Well…. er… ,"She stammered. "I'll turn my back to you then shall I?"

"Good idea." He mumbled.

Really, he was too freezing to be embarrassed though he was sure he would be later. His fingers were barely cooperating with him as he pulled on his pants but it was nearly impossible for him to button his shirt back on.

"Er… Hermione?" He asked. She turned around and her blush grew deeper as she saw his exposed chest. "Can you er… help me with my buttons?" How stupid did that sound?

"Yes, of course," she said briskly, making her way over to him. Ron noted that her voice was distinctly higher than usual, and she kept her eyes fixed firmly about two inches to the left of him.

She walked towards him, careful to keep her eyes on the ground. Somehow she managed to make her fingers work without touching his skin and after the last button was buttoned she dropped her hands and backed away like a frightened jackrabbit.

They stood there, in the dark of the night with the moon shining bright above them, both wearing identical blushes on their cheeks. It was an odd moment, neither one made any move to go inside.

"Ron…" Hermione started, all of her anger had evaporated, "I don't know why you believed that moron of a Healer, but er…," she gulped, trying to find the right words to say, "you're perfect just the way you are."

Ron blushed harder and dug his foot into the dirt, squashing a particularly large slug. "Thanks Hermione and er… if someone ever told you had Spattergroit don't believe them."

"I wasn't going to." She said briskly.

"Right." Ron nodded.

Hermione laughed. Hard. Hermione had finally comprehended everything that had happened and found it amusing. "Oh, I'm sorry Ron. But you should've seen your face." Ron glared at her. He didn't really think it was funny. Hermione stopped laughing when she saw his face and rolled her eyes. "All right, all right. I'm going to bed. Please don't do anything stupid and just go to sleep?" She asked.

Ron nodded, having gone back to smashing the slug.

"Night." And to Ron's surprise, she kissed him. It wasn't on the lips… just on the cheek. But all the same, it was a nice little surprise. He was stunned really. That was the word for it.

Fingering his cheek, he walked behind Hermione into the house and was still smiling as he went to sleep.


End file.
